


doll with the button eyes

by Soaring_Kite



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Confusion, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, He’s trying his best, Human Experimentation, I Don't Even Know, Illusions, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Misunderstandings, Mukuro is a doll, Mukuro wants chocolate, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, U.A staff - Freeform, i mean that literally
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:28:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29461305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soaring_Kite/pseuds/Soaring_Kite
Summary: It seems that, no matter where he goes, there’ll always be a lost child sticking to him like glue. Not that he really minds it. Eri is such a cute child, after all.Now, if only he wasn’t stuck in an inanimate object... he really wasn’t a ghost, dammit!
Comments: 15
Kudos: 113
Collections: Pacing's bests





	1. always listen to the children

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My two favourite fandoms have finally been mashed together by my favourite character.  
> *incoherent screeching and laughing*

Eri found the doll in her new room, sitting sadly against the wall and covered in dust and cobwebs. She’d spotted it after crying herself to sleep and waking up in a fit of terror because _where was Mommy? Daddy, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-!_

It was a small thing, smaller than even her colourful picture books had been. There weren’t any ripped patches from what she could see, and apart from the gathered grime it was relatively well-preserved. It’s head was big, and it’s body was small with rounded limbs.

Picking it up and patting the dust off, small bits of colour began to show through the layer of grey. The button eyes were mismatched—the left being a beautiful blue and the right an almost eerie red (like hers)—and the hair was a blue-tinted black. With a hesitant finger, Eri traced the button eyes and marvelled at the glass-like quality and the plush feeling of its plump body.

“Hello,” she whispered to it quietly. “Did no one want you either?”

The doll smiled up at her, and maybe it was because she was tired, but she swore it looked just as bit as sad as she felt. With the doll clutched tightly in her arms, she climbed onto the hard bed she’d been given and curled under the thin blankets.

She wanted to go home (where was home?).

* * *

“...what is this?”

Eri didn’t like the strange man. He was scary. And he didn’t seem to like her little doll. He reached for the small toy and she flinched away, curling around the soft toy like that might help. He paused, looking at her down that strange mask.

“Very well. Keep it if you wish,” he said. “Just keep it out of my sight. It’s disgusting.”

The doll twitched in her grasp as she nodded quickly and she looked down. It was a normal toy. Perhaps, it’d been her imagination...?

* * *

When Mukuro woke up, he found that his body wouldn’t move. After a moment of panicking, he realised that it wasn’t so much as his body _not_ moving, it was that he _couldn’t_ move. The reason for that was simple. Flame Exhaustion. Flame Exhaustion so large that he couldn’t so much as twitch a single finger.

...that and for some reason, everything was suddenly much, much bigger.

Then the girl happened and things suddenly made a lot more sense. He was a _doll_. Flame Exhaustion wasn’t the only thing holding him back. This—this was the punishment that so-called god had been yammering on about in the afterlife.

He, Mukuro Rokudou, was trapped in the body of a _doll_. Fucking hell.

Adding to that, he was certain if his Flames were up to par, he’d be able to move—doll body or not. It just so happened that his Flames were taking an extraordinary long time to replenish itself. Very strange.

What was also very strange, was the girl; it was only a week after his waking and a lot of shocking revelations, when his Flames were little more than half-full, that Mukuro realised just what was going on.

Human experimentation—Mukuro wanted to _scream_. Why? Why was it that even in this world full of supposed _heroes_ shit like this still happened? (Because humans never change, something in him whispered. People like Tsunayoshi who valued everyone were the minority, not that majority).

Eri—that was the girl’s name, Mukuro had learned some time ago—sniffed, thin arms covered in bandages and already so sallow. She brought him closer to her chest as the man stared down at her apathetically, and Mukuro was reminded uncomfortably of the scientists who’d stared at him just like that. (He buried the screams and terror deep into the depths of his mind).

“...what is this?”

And Mukuro did _not_ like the sound of that. He seethed silently in anger. Hey, he was a doll, give him some slack!

Eri didn’t answer, but the man—Kai Chisaki—nodded after a while. “Very well. Keep it if you wish, just keep it out of my sight. It’s disgusting.”

Mukuro twitched. Disgusting? He’d show the bastard—

He’d twitched. Holy shit he’d _moved_. Holy shit holy shit holy shit! Did he just need to get angry enough to move? Was that it? Mukuro tried calling up that anger again (it was easy enough. He always had a lot of anger to spare) but didn’t succeed in moving again and was left disappointed.

He didn’t realise they were back in Eri’s ‘room’ until she collapsed onto the bed, gaze tried and far too dull for a child. Mukuro hesitated. Well, it wasn’t like it would take a lot of Flames... (and he’d never admit it, even upon the threat of death, but he had a soft spot for lost strays).

There was a faint whisper as indigo fire flickered up the walls and reached towards Eri. For anyone looking in, nothing much changed. The ‘sole’ inhabitant of the room fell asleep, and the small doll was tucked beneath her chin.

To Eri, though, it was starkly different.

She stared as the ceiling turned into a forget-me-not blue sky, dotted with puffs of white. To her left, a large lake glittered under the warm sunlight and the breeze played gently with her hair. The grass was a springy, fresh green and the occasional red flower gleamed beneath the sun. In the far distance, a towering forest of trees loomed.

She looked around in wonder, slipping off the bed and noticing dimly as it vanished. This was... where was she?

“Kufufufu... hello there. You’re taking your sudden displacement quite well, aren’t you?”

Eri spun, eyes wide and heart jackrabbiting in her chest. The man who’d spoken smiled at her. It wasn’t a nice smile, by all means, but... his eyes were kind behind a thin layer of _tired_. (She wondered why this man seemed so sad).

For some reason, this person seemed strangely familiar. Mismatched eyes and blue-black hair. He wore a white button-up and black slacks, but still, he greatly resembled—

“Doll-san?” Eri asked.

The man looked amused, crouching down in front of her and she flinched away as he reached out. His hand halted in midair, and he nodded slowly. He didn’t try to touch her again, and merely knelt on the grass, keeping his hands in plain view.

“Indeed,” he said smoothly, “I’m... the doll. However, you can call me Mukuro-san.”

Eri stared at him warily. She asked after a moment, “Are you a Quirk?”

“No, I’m not. I’m a soul, I suppose you could say. The doll is my tether to this world.”

“Are you a ghost?”

The man gave a startled laugh, “Kufufufu—I suppose so. Don’t go around telling people that though, alright?”

“I don’t have anyone to tell it to.”

Mukuro-san sobered abruptly as he eyed her, gaze solid.

“...Kufufu, no, you don’t.”

They stayed in silence, the wind blowing occasionally and the sun beaming gently down on them. The passing cloud gave them shade, sometimes, and Eri found herself slowly relaxing, when a thought occurred.

“Are we outside?” she asked, only to have her hopes dashed when Mukuro-san shook his head.

“I’m afraid not, dear Eri. This is merely an illusion. I brought your mind over into my own little world. I wish I could help more but—” the world flickered for a brief moment and Mukuro-san grimaced “—my powers at the moment are limited severely. Slow to gather, but quick to burn.”

Eri... didn’t feel as upset as she thought she would (she’d accepted her fate anyway). Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but feel just a bit hopeful.

“Can I come back?”

Mukuro-san smiled at her. “Of course you can, dear Eri.”

* * *

Mukuro could _move_. If he’d known all that, to gain control over this doll-body of his, he’d have to bring Eri into his illusional world, he would’ve done it sooner!

Said girl watched as he toddled around on his stubby feet. Goodness, what an embarrassment this was, toddling around like a drunk, but still, the weight of elation far outweighed the embarrassment.

He’d been an owl, several times, and a cat in one of his past lives. What was being a doll to him? (It was only later that Mukuro found out, the ‘god’ that’d sent him here had never meant for him to regain consciousness). Sure, he couldn’t speak or eat, and it turned out using his powers were near impossible lest he want to go into Flame Exhaustion, but he had motor control and honestly? That was enough.

Then three years passed, and the escape happened.


	2. make sure you have a plan at all times

Mukuro always— _always_ —had a plan (usually). He had information (usually). And because he had those two things, he was nigh impossible to beat in a game of minds and schemes.

This did not prepare him to practically raise a traumatised four-year-old by himself, with an entire group throwing all his hard work into a pit, spitting on it, and then sashaying off into the sunset every. Single. Damn. Time.

Adding onto his ever-growing list of problems, was the concerning lack of his Flames. They filled up too slowly, and depleted too quickly. If it took him only 1/100th of his Flames to cast a simple, normal illusion before, it now took him almost four times as much effort.

The silver lining in all of this was that his eye seemed to have... evolved, in a way. He didn’t need possession bullets to take over people, nor did he need his trident (and, oh boy, the day he’d figured this out had been the day he laughed so much he almost _died_. Again).

Mukuro had, of course, experimented during his time in this world of heroes and bullshit. For one, he’d found that the little doll body he was kept in was literally the only reason he was ‘alive.’ If it got damaged, his Flames took damage as well. If his Flames took damage, he couldn’t use his illusions to manifest in the real world. If he couldn’t manifest in the real world, it meant he couldn’t scare away the masked men. If he couldn’t scare away the masked men? Eri’s experimentations grew crazier and crazier and _Mukuro did not like that_. His doll body was practically useless, only good for walking short distances and keeping Eri company. Other than that, he hated being trapped in the godforsaken thing.

Which brought him to Eri. Oh, the dear girl was... traumatised. Despite his best efforts of replacing her real form with an illusion to take the brunt of the experiments, there wasn’t much he could do to keep the yakuza away (and boy, Mukuro had _not_ thought his opinions on the underground world could get any lower).

So when one day, Eri seemed a little off, Mukuro was concerned. His Flames were heavily depleted, barely at a quarter filled, and Eri’s ‘caretaker’ was an unknown.

Then the man looked away, his hand slipping from Eri’s shoulder for a split second, and the next thing Mukuro knew they were speeding down the alley.

Mukuro had time to think, _what the fuck?_ before they were dodging into another alley and making their getaway. Mukuro had not know the little snowflake could run so fast. For that matter, Mukuro hadn’t known the snowflake was planning _any_ of this.

Sure, he’d been scheming on how to get the two of them out of there while his Flames were at a constant half-mast from keeping Eri safe, and at a severe, but still... for Eri to have been thinking the same was... inspiring. It meant she hadn’t lost all hope just yet.

So, gathering together all the Flame he could spare without destroying himself completely (no Flames meant no soul, and since he didn’t have a body, no soul meant goodnight for him _permanently_ ), he cast a simple cloaking illusion over the two of them.

...fuck, he could almost _feel_ his Flames draining away. That was decidedly Not Good.

They managed to make it through a narrow gap before they were abruptly stopped. By a boy wearing what looked like a green jumpsuit. They were stopped because Eri slammed into him by accident. Mukuro’s illusion wavered as he hung limply in Eri’s grasp (dammit, he wouldn’t be able to move for another day at least, now), before shattering...

...and all of a sudden fucking Chisaki was there. Fucking. Hell. Mukuro wanted to scream, but barely had enough energy to understand what was happening around him.

“Let’s go home, Eri.”

This son of a—

Eri shuddered and Mukuro felt his small form tremble along with her. He hated being a doll. Everything felt _fuzzy_ and his consciousness faded in and out of focus. He was certain the others were talking, but he couldn’t find it in himself to _concentrate_. His Flames reserves were absurdly low, and had it been his past life, he was certain he’d be dead. But Eri, the poor dear, he had to—

“—please take care of him,” he heard a whisper and then he was being thrust away.

Huh? What? Was that white blur Eri? Why wasn’t he with her? No—nonononono—not again. Not another one. He couldn’t—he had to save them all—Tony, Maria, Kenneth, _waIT_ —! (Ken. Chikusa. Himself. Everyone else was dead. He’d kill all those who did it, and all those who weren’t part of the killers, but their inaction had been one of the causes—!).

His vision blacked out as he moved his arm feebly, lightly hitting something.

Ah, damn. He was pathetic, wasn’t he?

* * *

Izuku clutched the doll tightly. It was a small thing, rather out-of-date in this Quirk and technology-filled era, but cute. It didn’t seem like something a small girl would like, though. It’s button eyes were eerily sentient, and it’s smile just that bit mocking. Adding to that, he was sure it’d twitched when Eri had shoved it into his arms. But that was impossible, right...?

The elevator chimed and Izuku’s head jerked up as the steel doors opened with hardly a sound.

“Holding an all-night vigil, are we?” Aizawa-sensei drawled, and Izuku couldn’t help the the rush of relief upon seeing the man.

“Sensei!”

Izuku listened to them talk numbly, still clutching the doll in his hands. He heard Aizawa-sensei saying something about sending them back and ending the work study and felt a burst of panic, ready to interject when Kirishima did so for them all. And then his name was mentioned and Izuku was suddenly slamming back onto earth.

“You still haven’t earned my trust back yet.” Yeah... he hadn’t thought so. “But, unfortunately, if I were to stop you right now, it’s all but guaranteed you’ll leap into action anyway. So I’ll watch over you. Let’s try to do things right this time, Midoriya.”

 _Shwump._ A gentle fist landed on his chest and Izuku stared at his teacher. “Understand, problem child?”

* * *

Eri had been moved to a new room by the strange man with the yellow hair after her escape attempt. It was a much nicer room than before, with painted walls and even a nice, soft bed with warm sheets.

She didn’t trust it.

She shivered under the blankets as the man stepped back out of the room, hugging the pillow close to her chest. She missed Mukuro-san... but he was better off gone. She didn’t want him to be trapped in this place along with her.

He tried to hide it, but she knew. Every time he helped her escape the scary white room, he got weaker. He often couldn’t move in his doll body for days. His place—the meadow—had been their place, but that too, tired him out. She had wanted... she had wanted at least him to feel safe.

She buried her head into the pillow. She wanted to cry, but the tears didn’t come.

* * *

“Say, what’s that?” Shouta asked, nodding at the doll in Izuku’s hand.

“Ah! This, um, Eri—that’s the girl—she gave it to me when she... yeah. She asked me to take care of it for her...” Midoriya said quietly.

He hummed. “Can I see that?”

“Oh, sure!”

Shouta took the doll into his hands gently, turning it over with a frown. It was... odd. He pressed it in several different places, looking for maybe a clue, but nothing. It also felt strange. The smile, the eyes, the way it seemed to radiant some kind of energy. It was like... it was like it was alive.

The mismatched button eyes glinted in the light, and Shouta suppressed the shiver that threatened to climb up his spine.


End file.
